


Boundless Cosmos, Crimson Hues.

by Perr1n



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: Explicit Consent, Explicit Language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:27:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 4,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25080871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Perr1n/pseuds/Perr1n
Summary: If one ever wondered what Hell on Earth looks like, look no further than Yharnam.
Kudos: 8





	1. Mira Tenebrarum, Wonderful Darkness.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Fourth of July everyone!

c

In the darkest of these nights, I wonder how it came to this, how such tragedy came to pass. 

The many-a-dozen clay pots, with their stench akin to burning hair all that protects us from what rules the shadowy streets. 

“You alright?” Meshire asks from his usual spot near the entrance to the old study hall. 

I glance at the man, his tan skin having turned ashy brown from age, eyes milky white and blank. “You sound upset.” I have no idea how he could guess such a thing from hearing alone. 

“Yeah, its nothin’” I reply. He tilts his bald head in my general direction. “Sure don't sound like nothin’” “I’m fine” I insist. Meshire nods, dropping the matter. 

Across from us, the few others who managed to flee to this little chapel before all hell broke loose. 

Ole Miss Regina sits calmly, Sister Aldia with her hands clasped, muttering a prayer, the stubborn geezer who refused to tell any of us his name taking swigs out of a glass bottle. 

And Arianna lounged in a revealing manner, the woman of the night in the midst of a discussion with Desmond, the man I and everyone else have to thank for bringing us here. 

Aldia glances up from her prayer, eyeing Arianna in clear disgust. It was only natural, I suppose, that a member of the Church feels distaste for someone who profits from sin. 

Desmond gives Arianna a polite nod of his head before leaving, standing to follow. “Heading out?” I ask. “Yep, ya ready?” Giving a shrug, I inspect my weapon, something resembling an oversized butchers cleaver, the blade lined with jagged teeth meant for causing great blood loss. 

And then we were off, venturing forth to hunt, for its just what we hunters do.


	2. Night of the Hunt

They were upon us within moments, gnashing and howling, eyes alight with feral hunger, then surprise once they saw our weapons, followed by pain and finally going blank as they fell. 

To the average man, they, the Beasts of the Scourge were demons, Hell incarnates, covered in shaggy fur, nails akin to daggers, every tooth filed to flesh rending points.

But to us, they are but animals, rabid animals that must be put down.

“Forward!” Someone ahead of me shouts, “No quarter!” Bellows another, the night air filled with war and blood. 

A woman left of me falls, slashing and cursing as a beast the size of a horse tackles her, digging its teeth into her shoulder. 

It rears back, tearing a strip of flesh with it, swallows, goes in for another, only for its head to roll away from its neck after I swipe my blade across it. 

Two men, whose names were Gascoine and Henryk moved to cover the woman, a third I did not recognize injecting a syringe into her leg. 

“Move up!” Desmond yells, bringing his axe down upon a blood-stained monster.

Ducking under a beast's claw swipe, I cut it from shoulder to groin, moving onto the next before it even hits the ground. 

Drawing a pistol from my hip, I lash out in a punching motion, pulling the trigger to feed a roaring beast a bullet, a spray of red fluid and chunks of furry flesh splattering my chest.

“Stand down!” Captain Ludwig booms in his deep baritone of a voice, yanking his silver claymore free of the chest it had been sheathed in. 

“Regroup!” Commander Gehrman states, almost completely drenched in blood, he and Ludwig having led our charge into the pack of beasts, yet seemingly the only amongst us without injury.

Sitting down, uncaring of the carnage the surrounded me, I let out a heavy sigh, inspecting my pistol, doing my best to wipe off the viscera that stained it. 

Someone seats themselves to my left. “Father Gascoigne.” I hum in greeting. “Raymond.” He replies, voice gravely and low, like rocks tumbling downhill. “How's Viola?” I ask. “Fine, fine.” He answers, removing his wide-brimmed hat so his grey streaked black hair may flow freely in the early fall wind. 

“Dunno how much more’o this I can take.” He laments. “No ones stoppin’ ya from leaving.” The taller man huffs, “I wish it were that simple, Ray. But what’d I do then?” “Leave?” I suggest, holstering my weapon.

“Leave.” Gascoigne echoes, “ ‘N Go where? Back to Boletaria?” I chuckle, “Just about anywhere is better than Yharnam.” He extracts a flask from somewhere in his coat, taking a swig. “No argument there.”


	3. A matter of Faith

“Ah, Raymond. So nice to see you.” Micolash greets as I enter his study room, voice high and nasally. “You wanted to see me?” I ask the scholar. 

He scribbles something down in a journal. “Yes, yes. I was hoping you and I may have a discussion away from prying eyes, Laurence has them everywhere it seems.” 

I sit across from him, “Is this about the Hamlet?” Micolash titters like a girl, “What else, dear brother?” “I thought I told you to move on.” HE sighs, “How can I? When we are closer than ever? Laurence is content prance around with his miracle blood, while we seek what would make his discovery seem childish?”

“How long have we been at this?” Is my question, “Years” He retorts swift, “Years, and in all that time, have we ever achieved anything by scheming behind the Vicars back?” 

His eyes narrow, “More than you’d ever know, more than I’d ever know. Do you recall that day when you first doubted me, and the next I showed you Her?” 

Memories of vivid green orbs dance within my brain, stars twinkling at my fingertips, suns held in the palm of my hands. 

“Yes,” I say, my anger deflating. “Have faith, Brother.” Micolash assures, placing his hand atop mine, “Have faith, and pray with me.”

“Kos, of the deep.” I begin, head lowered, “Kos, of the Beyond.” Micolash says. “Hear our prayers, hear our plea.” “Grant us eyes.” “Grant us eyes.” “Eyes within our minds, to cleanse them of their beastly idiocy.” 

“In these wee hours, speak to us of the Cosmos, of knowledge hidden by the veil of human ignorance.” “As you did for the Vacuous Rom.” “Grant us eyes, Grant us eyes.” 

He looks to me, smiling. I smile back, my faith strong. 


	4. Things old and forgotten

I sigh, easing myself into the hot water, scrubbing away the filth of the hunt, my eyes closed, mind relaxed. 

“Have faith.” Micolash whispers within my thoughts. I do, so many of us do, our secret group of heretics, who have gone against the orders of the Church, seeking more than what we were supposed to know. 

Laurance, prized pupil of Willem, master of the long disbanded Byrgenwerth College, discovered within the many catacombs underneath this city a thing unlike any other. It was called, “The Blood of the Old Ones.” A substance that could cure any sickness, heal any wound. It gave its users great strength, expand their lives. 

It was a miracle, and with it, Yharnam grew. What was a simple village exploded into a massive city, renowned for its advancements in medicine and technology. By the hundreds, men and women flocked here, and through it all, Laurance was hailed as a divine blessing. 

He founded the Healing Church, who rules over all of Yharnam, in control of its military, clergy, and many more.

Yet as the saying goes, “All good things must come to an end.” And Yharnams good days ended when the Beasts arrived. From the catacombs they emerged, unreasonable, insatiable in their hunger for flesh, bringing with them a bloodborne sickness that caused any infected to become one of them as well.

Thus the Hunters were formed, those given the task of waging war against Yharnams nemesis, this conflict having existed long before even my grandparents were born. 

And yet, despite the risks, groups still delved into the ancient labyrinths, finding more and more wonderful things, the greatest of them being the reason for my and a sparse few others secret defection from the Church. 

  
  


Her name was Ebrieatas, she was no human, nor beast. She was the source of the Blood, she was one of the Great Ones.

I have seen her, a regal, beautiful, and terrible thing that inspire awe and terror in equal amounts. 

Her face splits down the middle, the cosmos themselves shining from within, wings spread, the many tendrils that covered her pale, slug body waving in gentle motions. 

She looms over all of us, five times the height of the tallest man, each of us knelt in respect to her grandeur. 

“Ebrietas.” Laurence states as he stands back up, “Are you well?” She bows her round head, covered in cilia and growths akin to fungus/coral. A noise, high and reedy touches my ears, and judging by the way the rest shudder, twitch, or tense, they hear it as well. 

Someone I would later learn was named Yurie speaks in a calm, emotionless voice. “Communion?” Laurence nods, “Indeed, with your permission.” The same note plays, Yurie translating it. 

“Proceed. Assist, Guidance.” Gesturing with a black-gloved hand to me and Micolash, the formers mouth agape in awe, Laurance has us approach Ebrietas, who lowers herself to the stone floor of the cavern she resided in. 

Drawing a long thick syringe, I take hold of the tentacle Ebrietas offers me. 

The thing is cold and slightly wet, but also strong and flexible. 

Looking up, I find her pure emerald green orbs locked upon me, watching intently as I puncture the thick purple vein, drawing the plunger back and observing as it begins to fill with her blood. 

Something touches my neck, I see it is another tentacle. 

“Ally. Friend. Wish to help.” Yurie says for Ebrietas. 

“Yes.” Laurence replies, “Together we will look to the stars.”


	5. Horror Incarnate

The morning sun shines warmly, birds chirp from their nests, children laugh as adults chat. If not for the beasts, Yharnam may have been a paradise. I wonder what this city could be if it were not at war with remnants of the old world.

Perhaps one day, I shall get my answer.

A tall, slender man, his skin pale and body gaunt walks past me.

The long blue robe he wears catches my eye, something about him seems bizarre, but before I could learn what, I am interrupted by a hand landing on my shoulder. 

Turning around, I am greeted by a face covered in wrinkles, the shoulder-length brown hair having long since turned completely white. 

“Raymond.” Gehrman greets, removing his hat. “Commander, well met.” HE frowns, “I told you not to call me that.” Grinning sheepishly, I state, “Sorry, Sir.”

Gehrman was a most respected man, for he was the first of the Hunters, the founder, and leader of the Workshop back when it held no relation to the Healing Church and even though the Workshop had long since been absorbed into the Church to become another of its branches, Gehrman remained, for his style of speed and quick reflexes have become the basis of all hunters in training. 

“How do you do?” I ask, “Fine, damned beasts grow bolder by the day it seems.”

“And you?” I shrug, “Could be better, could be worse, I suppose.”

He laughs, “I’d say so as well, hardly a day goes by I’m not out there cutting some hairy monster to pieces.”

And as if on cue, someone starts screaming. 

“Help! Help me! BEasts!”

At once I am standing, Gehrman unholstering his weapon of choice, a massive, deadly sharp scythe, clasped in both hands as we sprint off, a horrid, bellowing roar causing the glass of nearby windows to shatter, what seemed to be a horse carriage flying over our heads. 

“Hunters, to me!” I shout as more and more figures flock to run alongside us, only for everyone to pause once we realize what exactly was ahead. 

I had heard stories of these sorts of Beasts, they were among the oldest of their kind, some of the first-ever born, with bodies built like apes, nearly as tall as Ebrieatas, arms long and strong enough to crush stone. 

Until recently, I never believed, but as the battles went on, the sight of these behemoths grew, reports of encountering the Dreaded Bloodletters undeniable now. 

And one Bloodletter was currently devouring a still kicking and screaming horse, rivulets of blood staining its ashen fur as it gorges itself.

“My god.” I hear Gascoine mutter left of me. 

The Bloodletter looks up from its meal to see us, frozen in fear and awe of its size, none of us save Gehrman and I ever having laid eyes upon such a thing. It stands on legs thicker than trees, each step it took causing the ground to shake, but it only took three, for with a sound akin to chiming bells, a lance of cyan green light slams into its thick chest, causing it to stumble back, bellowing in pain from the arcane fire that scorched its torso.

“Hold fast and flank!” The unmistakable voice of Ludwig roars over the galloping hooves, parting as he charges past on a giant stallion, his sword wreathed in ethereal blue-green power. 

“Advance!” Gehrman commands, the sight of the Heroic Holy Blade renewing their spirits as we attack. 

I carve a trench into the Bloodletters ankle, ducking away as it tries to stomp me flat, someone else hurls a Molotov, the beast trying to bat it away, succeeding only in setting its arm alight. 

Gehrman slashes his blade across its thigh, another few take aim with their rifles and strike its hateful yellow eyes. 

It roars and sweeps one arm, a few unlucky hunters not able to avoid its strike, they are propelled backward where they slam into walls and the ground with bone-crushing force. 

So busy watching as my fellow hunters were scattered, that I failed to see the Bloodletters other hand lash out, and suddenly I am looking it square in the face, being crushed in its inhuman grip.

It opens its mouth wide, reeking of copper and spoiled meat, and then I am falling, Ludwig having fired another blast of energy that severed its hand at the wrist. 

My head strikes the cobblestone ground and everything goes black.


	6. A Bottomless Sea

I am drifting, floating, carried on my back across a vast body of water. Some get in my mouth and I taste the bitterness of sea salt.

A hand guides me as it swims along, ensuring I do not get lost. 

Their touch is soft and gentle, when I look up they look down, wearing a snow-white hood that matches their luscious grey hair. 

Their lips are full, but grey like the rest of them, curled in a kind, motherly smile that filled me with warmth and comfort. 

“Kos?” I whisper. 

She nods, breathing a sigh that caused distant clouds to rumble. 

Another of the Great Ones, who one would pray to in hopes of being blessed with a bountiful harvest. 

I met Kos when she answered the prayers of a friend of mine, her name was Rom.

We were in deep reverence, wishing to be gifted with knowledge of the beyond, the great Cosmos the Old Ones reside in.

Kos answered us, a paltry few worshippers and bestowed upon Rom ideas of the ancient world. 

Soon after, Rom vanished, reappearing two years later to state she had been given a new purpose, to guard Yharnam against a threat that made the Beast Scourge seem trivial. 

Words uttered in a tongue no human could comprehend were spoken by Rom that day as across her rosy-cheeked face dozens of pure white eyes opened, her back arching as glowing flowers sprouted. 

We knew what this was. 

She had been granted eyes on the inside of her mind, allowing her to see and understand things humans could not. 

She had become a Great One.

And then she was gone, never to be seen again. 

That moment spurred Micolash to continue our groups work, in hopes of the rest of us ascending to join Rom and to one day return to lift mankind into the next step of evolution.

Kos guides me to a sandy beach, where dozens of others I don't know await. 

As I stood, the water that lapped at my ankles began to fill with fish, which the people collected in baskets, offering blessings of gratitude to Kos, who watches this all with a kind smile.

Her upper half was human enough, with lanky arms from which jutted fins, but from the waist down it became a flowing skirt of pale flesh and tentacles, like that of a squid or jellyfish.

While nowhere near the size of Ebrietas, she still towered over us all. 

I remain at her side, unsure of what the Great One wanted with me, why she entered my dreams to show me this.

“I don't understand,” I admit. 

Her glowing eyes seem to say, “Nor need you.” And then she indeed speaks these words, voice hushed and barely more than a whisper, yet still carrying enough power to crack a mountain in half. 

“Am I dead?” 

Kos shakes her head, “No, my child. No.”

“Then why am I here?”

She holds a six-fingered hand aloft, sweeping over those that claim her gift. 

“Wait.”

And so I do, I stand patiently for hours, days, weeks, all rushing by in a blur, the primitive tribe forging more and more advanced structures, from tents to huts to cabins, evolving into modern man.

“See how they toil, no matter the hardships.” 

A hut explodes, panic, and fear wash over the masses. 

“Yet no matter what ordeal you face.” The fire dies down, those claimed by it mourned and buried.

“Mankind always survives.” The charred ruins are torn down, rebuilt, replaced, if I had not witnessed it, I never would have known it had happened in the first place.

“Your master beckons me day and night.” Kos lets out a chuckle that made the crops bloom. “But he will never get the answers, I fear.” Her sadness makes tears run down my eyes. 

“Why?” I ask. 

“Fate is a cruel mistress, but never shall she act without reason. We must all play our parts, as terrible or grand as they may be. Even I cannot change it, not even with all the power I have can I avert my end.”

“And what of me? What is my fate?” She smiles again, “That is for you to find out, Raymond. For some things are better experienced than told.” 

Kos leans down so our faces are level. 

“Remember us, mourn us, and then move on, as you always have.” She presses her lips, softer than silk and warmer than the summer sun onto mine. 

A thousand stars explode within my mind, filling every corner of my very being, and then I wake up.


	7. Healing

With a gasp, I sit up, head slamming right into the face of someone else, who yelps as they fall to the ground. 

"Oh god!" I exclaim, rising off the cot I had been laid upon, only to stumble, legs seemingly not wanting to work. "Easy, Brother!" A familiar, nasally voice proclaims, Micolash helping me sit back down. 

"Where am I?" Is my question to him. 

"My clinic." Replies the figure I headbutted, dusting off the front of her white gown, giving a kind smile when I attempt to apologize. "Quite alright, sir." She introduces herself as Iosefka. "How long was I out?" Micolash answers, "Three days, but... I fear you were the lucky one." 

A chill runs down my spine as Iosefka explains, "Quite a few hunters died before that demon fell, some few we tried to save, amongst them Gehrman." My heart skips a beat, "Is he..." "No, I am not." Gehrman interrupts, seated in a wheelchair as he enters. "Tough old bastard." Huffs Micolash, the old hunter giving a grin at this comment, such a smile unbefitting of one currently missing his right leg from the knee down.

"God, I'm so sorry." Is all I can say to him as we grip hands. 

"For what? Being knocked out by a building-sized ape? I doubt there was much either of us could've done, Raymond." He removes his old cap, running a palm through thinning grey locks. "Thank you again, Iosefka." She bows respectfully, "Anytime, my friend. Anytime."

Sometime later, I manage to hobble my way down a flight of stairs, where what few hunters the damned Bloodletter hadn't ended lay in various states of injury, hoping to see someone I recognize. 

Yet Gascogne was nowhere and when I ask some fellow patients, they give faces that did little to ease my fears. 

But one, whose arm was wrapped in a cast answers, her voice thick with the distant Cainhurst accent. "I am sorry, but he's gone. In quarantine until..." She refuses to elaborate, though the woman would not have to. 

The only reason why any hunter would be quarantined was because of fear that they were possibly infected with the Beast Plague.

"No" I whisper, not wanting to think that he was going to become one of... ** _them_**.

The pale-skinned woman tilts her head, light amber eyes holding sympathy, though her face remained an expressionless mask. She offers me a seat on her cot once my legs start to buckle, we gifting each other our names. 

"Is this Gascogne a friend?" Maria asks, "Aye." I respond, "A strong, loyal man." Offering my own question, I ask why Maria and I have not met before now. 

"I'm new, you could say. Sent here from Cainhurst to help keep the peace, though I'd have come on my own. Most in Cainhurst seem to have forgotten that Yharnam's Hunters are all that keep this foul disease from spreading to the rest of the world. My mother wouldn't listen when I told her that together, our armies could all but eradicate the Beasts." 

Nodding my head, I reply. "Agreed, with enough capable fighters, we could push right into the heart of the catacombs and cut the head off of this scourge." 

"And yet, I must ask, Raymond, why do you not just seal off the tombs? Why leave them open at all?" Scoffing, I retort. "Indeed you are new to Yharnam. It is these very tunnels we have to thank for how advanced this city is. Everything from our medicine to the machines that make work easier is because of relics found underground, remnants of whatever people existed before mankind."

"The Pthumerians, I believe the scholars call them." At this, Maria perks up a bit. "Pthumerians, you say?" I nod again, "Have you heard of them?" She shrugs, "In passing conversation, I wonder what happened to them?" "Considering the tombs are the homeland of the BEasts, I can safely assume they are to blame for the forerunner's disappearance, yet such a thought troubles me."

She flexes the fingers of her one good hand, "I assume it is because if the beasts could end a race many times more advanced than us, then what chance have we?" 

"Exactly."


	8. Mercy on the poor bastard

As Maria and I continued to speak, enjoying the other company, I thankful to have something to think about besides Gascogne, we are interrupted by everything suddenly lurching in random directions.

"What the hell?!" I exclaim, gripping a table bolted to the floor, lashing out with the other hand to help keep Maria steady.

Various objects are thrown in random directions, glass shatters and people cry out in fear and confusion. 

But then, just as quickly as the violent tremors began, they ended. Maria and I share a look, "What was that?!" Iosefka cries as she hurries into the room. "Earthquake?" Somebody else suggests, "Not like any I've ever felt" Is my reply. 

"Raymond!" Micolash shouts from the floor above me, "Raymond! Come quick!" Sparing a glance at the doctor, I ask if she could handle it from here. "Go," She retorts, "See what that madman wants. 

Hurrying up the stairs, I find the lanky man standing in front of a window overlooking Yharnam. "What is it?" I demand, thinking whatever he wanted was really not the time.

Grinning ear to ear, unsettling me to no end, Micolash points and beckons. "Come and see!" Huffing out a sigh, I stand to his left, totally disinterested until my eyes land upon something that caused them to be blown wide. 

"What..." Is all my brain is able to form. 

"It would seem our work is finally starting to pay off." Is the others reply. 

Clinging to the side of the distant Cathedral Blind Chaplin Meshire resides in was something I never could have imagined, dozens of paws large enough to tear a Bloodletter in half allowing it to suspend its massive frame along with the Cathedral's tower, oblong head swaying lazily as it surveys the city, and even from here, miles away, I could see the simmering glow of at least seven or more eyes, some of which, in the back of my thoughts, I knew were staring right at me.

"What?" I repeat, unable to say anything else. 

"They have heard our prayers. Kos has sent her disciples to show she has yet to forsake her most loyal children!" 

Footsteps herald the arrival of Iosefka, who squints in an attempt to see what we do. 

"What are you looking at?" She asks, failing to notice the creature even as it begins to clamber down the tower wall and strut across the rooftops.

"Nothing..." I finally state, "It's nothing." The Doctor mutters under breath before walking away.

"I never should have doubted you." Is my statement to Micolash, who, still grinning from ear to ear, says five words that send chills down my spine.

"Momentus times are upon us."


	9. A Stone.

"Oh joy!" Micolash cried, bounding towards the massive creature, still clinging to the side of the chapel.

I call out to try and stop him, but too late, for already is he shouting upwards. 

"Praise thee, oh glorious servant of Mother Kos!" The thing tilts its head, dozens of eyes, each of them brighter than stars blinking in random patterns, their diamond pupils expanding into round circles as some few befall Micolash, who beams like a child at a candy shop. Clicking and humming, the noise-causing my skull to vibrate, it slinks down, making no noise, landing in a ploom of dust and dirt to tower over my comrade, a mountain next to an ant.

Yet still, Micolash grins, arms spread as though to hug the entity, which leans down, the beard of teal-colored tentacles swishing back and forth.

"Kos sent you, for she has heard us! I knew she would! She is a kind and loving mother indeed!" The great one, to my mild surprise, nods. Micolash hops back and forth with glee. "Wonderful, oh simply wonderful. Such an honor, to find myself gazing upon your pure beauty, Messenger!" 

It lets out a series of wet gurgles, which for unknown reasons I was certain was its laugh, amused and flattered by the worship Micolash was giving it.

Ever so slowly, it extends a hand, tipped with claws longer than I was tall, laying in the center of it a blue-green object, which lets out a clang as it hits the ground. Micolash picks said object up, cradling the stone, shaped like an egg, and carved to resemble the Messenger's head, as though it were a sleeping babe.

"I shall cherish this gift for the remainder of my earthly days! May your opponents tremble before your might, Glorious Emissary to the Cosmos!" Again, it bows, clambering back up to rest along the chapel, resuming its watch for....who the hell knows?

With the things gaze elsewhere, I move to stand next to Micolash, who continues to hold the stone close to his chest. "What is it?" I ask. Still grinning happily, he replies, "It matters little what it is to us, save the fact we, two lowly, weak, mortal men were given it by a servant of our beloved mother and queen! We will guard it with our lives, guard it till the time comes for its purpose to be revealed!" 

Merrily skipping away, he shouts it was time for us to gather our fellow believers and tell them of the "Miracle" We just bore witness to.


End file.
